Albertine
by E's My Brand Of Heroin
Summary: Another wonderful picsperation from Emmy on the PPSS blog. A peeping vampire with incredible will power. But how long can he hold out for? AU, some ooc. Have decided to continue with my little drabble. Enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

**All the usual- I don't own any characters or rights to Twilight. I own the idea but all the inspiration from comes from my muse Emmy at PPSS blog. Seriously, Em, whether you read these words or not, you have given me not only the desire to write but to share with the wonderful world that is fanfiction. Thanks**

**E's**

**PS. I can also be found on Twittah my_e_addiction It's also where I link to PPSS and get the incredibly sexy pics that get me going.**

**PPS. Thank you so much to my beta Dellaterra for agreeing to help me with this nonsense and trying to understand my ramblings.  
**

**Oh, one more, the song is Nina Simone, "_Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood_"**

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**Albertine**

I can see her in the bathroom. She looks nervous again. I love it when she goes in there. I have such a perfect view of her from my bedroom. I can see her fairly well in her living room too, especially when she stands near the stereo system. Her hips sway back and forth. I only wish I could hear the music. Maybe another time. I can only see her when she looks out at the sky from her bedroom window. I would love to have a better angle for the bedroom but I think I would have to move next door for that. I would seriously consider it but then I wouldn't have the lovely view the bath. Sometimes she starts in the living room, turning on a CD or something. She starts to sway really slowly. I picture her listening to Nina Simone.

**_Baby, do you understand me now_**

**_Sometimes I feel a little mad._**

And I can't tell if the lyrics are for her or for me. She raises her hands over her head and rolls her pelvis in circles. I want to feel her sweet, round ass grind against me like that. She is perfect. With perfect apricot skin. It has no marks, no scars, although I can't understand how; she is far from graceful. I will get to be the first. I will get to leave my mark alone on her perfect skin.

**_But don't you know that no one alive_**

**_Can always be an angel._**

She moves down the hallway and I picture her slowly stripping away her layers of clothes, her layers of sadness, her layers of fear until she reaches the shower.

**_When everything goes wrong you see some bad._**

And finally, finally, she takes that damn wig off. The one with that makes her soft, deep auburn curls disappear. It's a straw broom on her head and I can't wait to burn it. It will go up quickly. I'll have to use the kitchen sink; I won't taint the porcelain with anything less than her.

I love how she leaves her pretty black shoes for last. Like a little girl playing dress up she's all bows and high heels. She leaves those things for me. A soft little present to unwrap. She waits until it's just us. Closed off from the world. She wears that hideous blond thing like a hijab. She protects her beauty, her virtue, from everyone except me and God. She stands naked. Exposed. She is not like the whores downtown. She has a dark thatch of curls between her legs that matches her mane. She is not fake or perverse. The soft hair would hold her scent, her liquid essence, until I could part her folds with my fingers, my lips, my tongue.

She always makes the water so hot. Some nights she pushes the gossamer curtains apart and the steam billows out the windows. It catches the sweat on her skin and makes her breakout in tiny goose bumps, raising each downy hair on her pliant curves. The tea-rose tips of her breasts grow darker, changing to salmon pink as they tighten in the twilight air. Her sweet skin so fair, so delicious. She is like my very own personal Snow White and I am the hunter sent to cut out her pulsing, warm heart.

**_But I'm just a soul whose intentions are good_**

**_Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood._**


	2. Chapter 2

**All the usual- I don't own any characters or rights to Twilight. The storyline is mine however.  
**

**E's**

**PS. I can also be found on Twittah my_e_addiction It's also where I link to PPSS and get the incredibly sexy pics that get me going.**

**PPS. Thank you so much to my enigmatic and incredibly intelligent beta Dellaterra (who knows things about grammar I've never heard of O.o ) for agreeing to help me with this nonsense and trying to understand my ramblings.**

**Your love and reviews mean more to me than you can understand. Enjoy  
**

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She's freezing again. I can hear her shivering. Why would she stay in this God-awful place? Not that it matters to me. I don't get cold. And the lack of sun is convenient for the most part. But that doesn't really matter either. I've only been seen by a handful of people here anyway. I'm trying to keep it to a minimum. Fewer casualties that way. I guess that doesn't matter either. None of it does. Nothing makes a damn bit of difference to me except her. I don't even know what I was doing here years ago. It was best that she left.

I missed her in a way I couldn't understand when her mother took her away from the damp, from the green, from the overwhelming sadness. At first it was as if I were a child who had his favorite toy taken away for no reason. My attachment to her was instantaneous. I had followed the mother around for months. Her blood was thick with estrogen, and that must have been what first made me take notice. I should have known then that something was off. In my ninety-some odd years, no other pregnancy had caught my attention. It was something about her. Once the girl was born it was apparent that while her mother held a lingering echo of the fragrant blood, it was truly the babe that had intoxicated me.

I was civilized from the beginning though. There were several years when things went a bit awry, but we all have our off days. Since I cannot die, mine happened to last a few decades. But for the most part, I held an awesome control over my thirst, my body, my mind. It was an incredible sense of power that was only slightly less delicious than the power of holding someone else's life in my cold, dead hands. But to deny myself everything I deeply craved, to put myself in constant contact with it and resist, made me feel like a skilled master in total control of my world.

She was beautiful and sweet with gray-blue eyes. I knew from experience that those eyes would change but to what I wasn't sure. A light, clear green like her mother's, perhaps, or a muddy brown like her father's. Her hair was dark from birth and her skin was alabaster and perfect. Unfortunately I wasn't able to see it very often. Her September birth left little time before the weather changed to drifting snow and sleet. Despite the mother's lack of maternal instinct, she at least knew enough to cover the child in fleecy clothing. It was easier to see her when she began sleeping through the night. I didn't have to leave every few hours. I adored sitting in the handmade rocking chair. I could feel where the varnish was worn off the arms of the chair, and I could almost see the memories ingrained in the wood. The old chair creaked at night when her father would rock her but remained silent under my weight as I did not move.

Night after night I sat and inhaled deeply, relishing the silence. Most infants were quiet. Their minds were not filled with anything other than their immediate senses, their wants and needs. My beautiful girl hardly ever cried, as if she already knew that she would have to start caring for herself sooner rather than later. In the night her quiet breaths filled the room with the sweet scent of her mother's milk. She shifted minutely, but with every move, her tiny, delicate body called for me to stay.

The torture was truly never enough. Her scent filling the room, engulfing my senses. Knowing she was so close, so vulnerable while I resisted the temptation. The sick thrill of being so close to what I wanted but never touching her flesh, gave me a high unlike any other. My cockiness had led me astray before. I should have recognized it for what it was. But I wanted more than just her breath, her scent, the quick thumping of her heart. One night I stood by her crib and placed my finger on her fat, pink cheeks, stroking at the flush from the warm blood below. She gasped and reached out, grasping onto my finger with strength only infants knew. Although she remained asleep, the intensity of that touch, that moment, was so strong my mind shut off to everything else in the world. For once, I couldn't hear her parents' gentle, dreamy thoughts down the hall. Both neighboring homes were silent as well. It was a peace I had never experienced since coming into this life. The voices, the thoughts, the cacophony inside my skull were quieted instantly.

It was the one thing I had no control over. Since my birth into this other life I had learned to discipline myself and focus on certain thoughts or to ignore them as if they were background noise. But this, this was not organized chaos, or even thickly muffled whispers. This was silence and it was incredible. Her skin was alluring, her scent was sweet and intoxicating, but the silence was a precious gift from the God that had created my angel.

If her touch alone could do this to me, for me, how would one small taste of her blood affect me?


	3. Chapter 3

**All the usual- I don't own any characters or rights to Twilight (books or movies). I am not SM. The storyline is mine however.  
**

**I'm on Twitter my_e_addiction. Mostly I babble nonsensically about my life or stupid thoughts. Surprisingly though, I often mention how my writing is going. It's also where I link to PPSS (Perv Pack's Smut Shack) and get the incredibly sexy pics that get me going.**

**And to my beta Dellaterra who has taken time out of her extremely hectic, and trying schedule to help me for absolutely nothing other than my adoration for her exceptional knowledge and clearly, her love for all things creative. (I hope I have not butchered your suggestions, please take a few minutes to relax and simply enjoy.)  
**

**Your reviews are love, and the fact that I have any gives me immense satisfaction, joy, and pride (as it does for all authors on here, whether they tell you or not.)**

**Love, **

**E's**

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**I resisted that night. I resisted for the next 1275 days until her mother took her away. I continued to watch her though. Despite my desire to taste her blood, I felt more protective than anything. Especially with that woman who called herself Isabella's mother. She fed and changed my baby girl, kept her physically comfortable, but that was the extent of it. I stayed in her room night after night and held her hand, or allowed her to hold mine. She would draw it into her mouth and suck on my fingers to soothe herself to sleep. I would stand stock still and be thankful that I never got tired.

I had never been tied to any one place and Phoenix had become tiresome. The monotony would surely have driven me to madness had I not had at least some practice in busying my mind and body. There was a huge variety of wildlife in Arizona so that was a perk. Thank God for mountain lions and bobcats. Deer, antelope, and even black bears were fairly prevalent out here. It made me think of Emmett and the others I once called family. They weren't bad individuals to be with. They were simply too much, too often. They enjoyed being around each other quite a bit. Not that I hadn't enjoyed their orgies on occasion, but it wasn't really my forte. Everyone getting up afterward and carrying on as if they had just finished a crossword puzzle. Despite its carnality and, often, brutality, there was an intimacy while engaging in sex. Sadly though, it disappeared with the Cullens, resulting in nothing more than fucking- cocks and cunts and other random orifices being filled for sheer physical pleasure. But the mind could not hold onto that enjoyment when all was said and done because, in truth, the acts were grotesque and not worth remembering.

Not that I necessarily "made love" to any of the random girls I had come across through the years. I generally just fucked them as well, but they didn't know it. Right up until their very last moments, they were feeling pleasure and some, oddly enough, even thought of love as they fed me. While I certainly didn't feel that way, at least it was more satisfying than being with a group of mated lovers. I could at least pretend that we had a connection that was far more familiar than a one-night stand. Especially when the women began fantasizing about wedding dresses and baby names. One would be surprised how often women did things like this after knowing a man for only a few hours.

I had abstained once again from all human meals as well as sexual pleasure with anyone else since having met Isabella. I couldn't abstain entirely; although even masturbating was little more than a release of pressure and pent-up energy. When not watching over my girl, I spent the majority of my time in the Petrified Forest. Other than a few back-country campers every now and again – but more often than not – the forest was fairly silent, save for scurrying rodents. The silence and space allowed my mind to drift, and I was given the luxury of simply performing a physical task without the mental pictures or intrusive sexual thoughts of others.

My life as a fearsome and deadly sexual predator had become nonexistent. When I wasn't living as a filthy nomad or exposing my anatomy to the wilderness, I was practically a sentinel, watching over the small child as she grew into an adolescent. If I didn't have an obsessive need to see her daily, I would have considered ending my embarrassing existence. Fortunately, as a sort of gypsy, no one had to know of my life, or how pathetic I had become. I didn't relish this lifestyle but to be near my sweet girl, I was willing to endure it. For years I stayed, simply because my heart was here. It mattered not that it beat outside my own body.

At some point, I decided that I needed to try and put some distance between myself and my sweet girl. If anything, it would underscore my enduring need for torture and reaffirm my self-loathing. Why should I have what I want? Why should I be able to be so near to something that gives me some sort of relief? Aside from that, I was interested in discovering if she had sapped all my prowess just as she relieved me of my ability. They were both a blessing and a curse in their own right.

I was reluctant to leave the sanctuary of the forest, but the older Isabella got, the less time she spent at home. I felt the need to watch over her as she left the loneliness, albeit safety, of her own home. She would leave early in the morning and sit outside in the schoolyard long before the bell rang. She would speak only when spoken to and, after some time, her peers stopped speaking to her altogether. I would watch for hours, hidden in shadows, as she read books far beyond her years, which also kept her at a distance from other school children whom called her a freak in their minds. However, her countenance: her soft, but striking eyes, clear skin, and ripe, pouty lips encouraged those same individuals who shunned her to create deviant scenes in their minds with my Isabella in the staring roll. By the time she reached the age of fourteen, puberty - and her mother's lack of general care - led to a svelte figure and long, lithe legs that attracted the attention of many males. Disturbingly, it was not only the young teens that began to notice what was mine. The men of the town, despite having daughters of the same age, often pictured her legs wrapped tightly around their waist as they gripped her firm, supple ass. Their midsections were always smaller, and their appendages were always larger, in their own imagination.

It sickened me that I had to endure these visions of my lovely girl. Although she was technically only a few years younger than my once-human self, she might as well have been my grandchild. I had watched over her for so many years, that I was loath to think of her as anything but pure and innocent. Despite her more womanly appearance, I chose to continue thinking of her in more childlike fashion. Since I was unable to see into her head, I often assured myself that her young mind was too full of Fitzgerald and Frost to fully appreciate her own sensuality, thus ignoring her own blossoming womanhood.

It was with this mentality that I deserted my dear girl and unwittingly, threw her to the wolves.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**I want to thank Dellaterra and Truceover for their dedication to helping me make this story look and sound soooo much better than I was able to do on my own. As hard as it's been, I think it's a really good thing to have another set of eyes. This chapter would have been crap without their help and now, I'm actually happy with it. Thanks ladies!**

**And as always, I love to hear what you all think too.  
**

**Enjoy, **

**E's  
**

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After I left, I still kept tabs on her from a distance. I didn't allow myself to get too close to her scent. Occasionally though, I would seek out Renee and listen to her often-frenzied, swirling thoughts. I even found myself back in Forks when the need became too strong. Though I wanted to hear about my precious girl, concupiscent males and envious females harbored thoughts of her that were too lecherous, too repugnant in Phoenix. Charlie thought often of his now-teenaged daughter. He was concerned about her welfare, whether or not she was happy, and he would replay phone conversations in his head. I lived for those thoughts. While I tried desperately to pretend that I no longer had any interest in the girl, I couldn't deny my curiosity about her well-being.

Renee didn't necessarily become a better mother with time, but she hadn't fared worse. She treated her daughter as a sibling or girlfriend, discussing dates and local hot spots, even financial troubles. Isabella never spoke up or asked her to change. She smiled when Renee mentioned the cost of a pasta dish on a date and looked properly saddened when her mother would describe whatever disaster had happened during said date. Apparently, Renee dated often and Charlie had been the preeminent choice in the array of men that Renee had met since leaving him. It was unfortunate that he didn't offer her the drama she sought. Renee was at least decent enough to not bring the men into her home where her child slumbered; instead, she fucked them in the parking lot or, more often, in her driveway, regardless of the evening's disasters.

Renee assumed that her daughter's quiet demeanor meant that she had little understanding of relationships, men, or anything sexual in nature. I didn't have to see Isabella to know that she comprehended far more than her mother believed. While I was positive Isabella had never experienced those things for herself, she was far more astute than she let on. She saw clearly things about her own mother and her bevy of "gentleman" callers that Renee herself couldn't.

Renee kept herself too busy to feel her overwhelming loneliness. She chose to suffocate it into a coma with men and frivolous hobbies. It's not that the woman didn't love her daughter; she did, very much so. She just had no inclination to express it in a parental manner. Her love did not make up for her unwitting selfishness, and the majority of her thoughts focused on herself. Renee's thoughts and memories revealed to me the deep understanding in Isabella's eyes that she had for her mother. Although her mother did a decent job of filling her head with distractions, every so often her unconscious mind would allow thoughts of love and longing to float to the surface. Just as quickly though, thoughts of deep disappointment would swell in her head and fill her chest. I did not have to read minds to see her sudden change in affect from one fleeting thought to the next. Despite her seeming simple-mindedness, Renee's complex brain worked quickly to prevent her from feeling the pain too acutely. Sadly, Renee dismissed these feelings as easily as she did Isabella's insight into her life.

Bella never spoke of those things to Charlie, of course. To her father she claimed that school was great, that she kept busy with friends, and that Renee took wonderful care of her. Charlie never let on to his daughter that he knew better. They were very much alike, though neither would ever be vocal enough to realize it.

It was clear that this father missed his daughter more than he could ever express. He would end each conversation with, "talk to ya soon kid," and on the very rare occasion that he was feeling consumed by his alienation, he would mumble, "love you." Sadly though, Isabella had usually placed the receiver back on the cradle by the time her father got up his courage. Charlie and Isabella took comfort in their self-created solitude, wrapping it around them like an old afghan. Though it didn't keep them warm, it was familiar and well worn.

It was amazing what one could glean from fleeting thoughts even when the individual didn't realize they were thinking them. So it went this way for several years. I watched Isabella grow through the thoughts of others, but I would not allow myself direct contact with her. Physical contact was definitely out, but I also denied myself the pleasure of seeing her directly. After this much time away I would need to reacclimate myself to her, her scent, the feel of her skin. For the time being, the mirrored image, although foggy, would have to be enough.I knew I would run back to her, and she was still far too young and innocent for me to ruin her life. I wasn't thrilled with the idea of destroying her at any stage of her existence, but I was resigned to the fact that it would happen one day. The least I could do to show her the extent of my devotion (and perhaps indulge in my God complex) was to allow her to become an adult first. My love for her was intense, but my obsession was desperately painful. However, I was determined to prove that I was stronger than any human, more cunning and powerful than even I knew myself to be.

As the years went by, her features stayed delicate and refined. Her hair darkened and cascaded down her back in waves with red overtones shining in the sun. Her body stayed slender with little muscle tone. She could have made a beautiful dancer if it were not for her utter lack of gross motor skills. At 17 she remained much as she did at 14. Her breasts remained small but they suited her frame well.

Renee's version of her daughter changed as Isabella did. While she never appeared to pay much attention to her offspring's thoughts or feelings, Renee was fairly adept at noticing her daughter's physical changes. Though there was never jealousy in her mind, Renee always took note when a potential suitor paid particular attention to her daughter's pale, flat abdomen or pointed nipples through thin cotton shirts. Renee was familiar with what men were after despite the words they flattered with. She also knew that the attention and affection only lasted for so long. She had given up on understanding her daughter long ago, but she knew Isabella could do better than she had, could avoid falling hard and fast for some boy and forever bearing the consequences.

Charlie however, saw his little girl forever as such. She barely changed in his mind's eye, remaining a precious little doll to him. Charlie wasn't to blame though, as he hadn't seen Isabella in person since she was 14. He was so confused the day she called to tell him she would no longer be spending her summers in Forks. She tried her best to spare his feelings, but in the end she couldn't help but tell him that she no longer wished to spend her vacation fishing, watching sports, and being forced to hang out with his friend's son. His imagination and memory were really all he had left. Isabella sent school pictures that graced his dusty mantel, but even in those, the lighting gave her a childlike quality with sparkly eyes and freckles dusted over smooth, clean skin.

It was with this vision in mind that Charlie agreed to let his unsullied yet nubile daughter move in with him at the age of seventeen. I wanted so badly to stay away from her and keep her clean. Sadly though, I wanted to feel her pulse, let its rhythm soothe me, and then sink my teeth into her warm, fragrant thighs even more.

Eighteen. I had to let her reach eighteen, if only to convince myself I was less of a monster than I truly was. I knew she would be arriving in Forks soon. Her mother, apparently, had met someone who wanted to stick around. From what I could gather, this man held no ill will toward my girl, nor did he see her as anything but a daughter. However, being the selfless person she was, Isabella wanted her mother to enjoy her time alone with this somewhat decent man. I was unable to decipher whether or not she was trying to reconnect with her father, or if she figured she might as well be lonely somewhere else. I hadn't yet decided if I would let her know of my existence, or if I would continue to watch her from afar. Now that she would be with her father, my brain slowed and quieted down as I lessened my constant vigil on her welfare. She would be happy here. I would see to it.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Twilight, all SM.

I have written another story, "All I Need" just a little o/s that was for the We Heart It TwiFicZone Blog Contest. Didn't win, but please let me know what you think. Alice and Jasper, highschool and first love.

Thank you to Dellaterra and TruceOver for their eyes, brains, and suggestions. Please leave me love. I always like to know what you all think.

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I stood outside her house. I hadn't seen her in so long that I feared my first reaction might be too much for either of us to handle. I fought the painful urge to climb the tree outside her bedroom window and instead listened to her wander around her old room. Her father hadn't changed much, with the exception of switching out the crib for a bed.

She had taken off her shoes and was walking barefoot. I loved her delicate feet. I wanted to run my tongue across her high arches, then place those thin, fragile ankles on my shoulders as I slipped inside her. Everything about her was so susceptible to breaking. I almost wanted to snap those pretty little ankles to keep her from going anywhere. Maybe someday I wouldn't have to. For now though, I would simply have to imagine it.

I listened to her sigh, rearrange books, and turn on her computer. I had been standing there since she arrived in this town. I wanted to introduce myself properly; I just needed the right time. Fuck it. I'm so fucking sick of this. What am I waiting for? I'm not performing some fucking ritual that requires a goddamn virgin bride. I could do it. I could have her and leave her intact. Mostly. One time wouldn't be enough though. The first time would go too quickly. Not for me; if anything I'd have to speed things up, figuratively, of course, or she wouldn't be able to handle the friction. Regardless of how ready she would be for me – and she would be – at some point a human female's body wouldn't be able to keep up. I didn't want to hurt her, at least not to the point she couldn't accept my body.

I worked to shut off my brain so I could focus solely on her movements. She was on the balls of her feet as she moved around her room. Toe walking had become her private way to soothe herself since doctors had told her mother she ought to have leg braces. Not that it mattered; Renee thought the behavior was cute, and physical therapy would have required too much work on her part.

She eventually grew out of it, but when she was alone or nervous, she would bounce around on her toes and pace. It was a habit I loved. It made her thin calves taut. I wanted her in heels. Four-inch, narrow, spiky heels with her legs bare. I did enjoy silk stockings and garters, and they would have a place in her wardrobe eventually, but first, I wanted to see her skin. My mind tried to conjure up every sexy outfit and short skirt I had ever seen on a woman, but nothing had the desired effect on my brain or body.

Skimpy lingerie and costumes all became too clichéd, too promiscuous. But innocent cotton panties didn't work for this fantasy either. No matter what I put her in, I wanted it all off in the end. Except for the shoes. Her frail little body, stretched tight between thick, coarse ropes, with nothing on her but painfully high heels. Even if I were to shatter the talus bone with a press of my thumbs, visually, her ankles would remain beautifully intact. The thought of her heavy scent of adrenaline filling my bedroom, thickening the sweet perfume of her blood as she pulled against her bindings, had my body aching for her. Were my veins filled with blood rather than venom, I am sure the majority of it would be pooled below my waist.

I hated that I had left her, but in retrospect, it appeared to be the best choice I could have made. I had regained some of my narcissism and I practically reveled in my own self-indulgence. It had been so long since I had allowed the monster free reign, I was thankful that it still existed. Not that I didn't want to care for my precious girl, but the pathetic sycophant I had become was killing the man in me. The first time I found a girl since having left Isabella, I realized I had nearly suffocated the vampire within me as well.

She had a full, rounded figure that wouldn't feel the hard planes of my body as acutely as my own dear one's would. Her form was soft, but her body belied her raucous personality. She wasn't like the typical women of today who berated themselves for their thick middles and plump, round bottoms.

She sashayed down the street, owning the swing in her hips and the steady, thumping rhythm of her gait. She called to several other women, who I assumed were her friends. She drew attention to herself and laughed loudly with abandon. I considered moving on to another, less-noticeable individual, but at one point she threw back her head and exposed her neck. Something about her loose rolls of flesh, wrapped in tight clothes, gave off a deep, heady scent that made my nostrils flare and my throat muscles involuntarily contract.

I didn't have a _type_ for fucking, and I certainly didn't have one for feeding. However, thinking back, I believe that I specifically sought this woman out. There, in my empty chest, like a solidified lump of lava, sat the realization of the differences between the one I truly wanted and the one I settled for. It wasn't until I had nearly drained the woman called Rosalie that I finally admitted to my deep longing.


	6. Chapter 6

Oops, forgot- All twi stuff is SM's. The rest is mine. Please enjoy and leave me love if like it. Your thoughts are always encouraging to me.

I'd also like to thank Dellaterra and TruceOver for their beta and pre-reading skills. They are infinitely more skilled than myself- hats off ladies.

On with the show...

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I was hardly into this hunt and almost wished it was a doe's thick neck I'd be biting into. A simple mind, unfettered by greed or lust, was all I was looking for. Although her thoughts were not complex, they really were more than I cared to deal with. Thankfully though, this Rosalie didn't appear to need much in the way of seduction, I was spared that much. I read her thoughts easily as she spotted me. I was nameless and faceless in her fantasy and she never once considered that I wouldn't come onto her. In her mind, it wasn't even really my choice; I did it because I was rendered helpless by her beauty. She saw herself as the epitome of every classical woman and assumed no man could resist the chance to _give it a try_. I could only imagine what that phrase meant to her, though my nonchalant shrug apparently answered her unasked question. She giggled to her friends while she glanced over her shoulder at me. I knew she had seen me, but I didn't care to leave my image in anyone else's head. I ducked slightly into a darkened doorway, hidden from the sun. She quickly followed me into the building.

Her flirtatious banter and attempts to touch me were short lived. I thirsted for her blood, not her inane companionship. She quieted quickly, and I was thankful for that. She was used to being the dominant one, the aggressor, so she was momentarily thrown by my forward behavior. By the time she realized I wasn't kissing her neck, it was too late for her to scream. Her blood filled her throat, choking her screams and silencing her internal pleas. Her brain fought to understand, but fortunately, it too was silenced as it ceased to function.

I hadn't heard any tenants on the first floor of the building, but I didn't want her alerting the other floors. Listening for any thoughts or movements from the rest of the building, I lifted her limp, weighted body and carried her down to the basement where the furnace roared. After I had finished with the disposal, I waited. I sat in the dark with only the glow of the fire, and I waited some more. But it never came- that intense, immediate longing to feed again on human blood. The feeling of wanting to taste the thick, sweet syrup subsided, and in its place was only Isabella. I thought of her touch, her scent, her taste. I felt confident that feasting on a few more humans on my way up the coast to reunite with my would-be paramour would help fully restore me to the potent hunter I once was. The more I thought on it, the more positive I was she wouldn't be thrilled with my recent dietary choice. However, I couldn't imagine she would be happy with the pathetic, simpering wretch I had allowed myself to become. I had to gain back some control before I saw her again.

As I stood outside her window, listening to her flit about the softly glowing chamber above me, I knew I could now see her as my lover, not just as the fragile little creature I sought to protect. She had turned on some music, and though it was soft, I heard the distinct creak of her mattress as her body lay down. I thought about the way she would look, lying across her single bed, her head hanging off the side, rolling back and forth as her hair cascaded down the side and swept the floor in feathery, soft motions, her glistening, white neck exposed to the moonlight as she moaned my name. My strong hands bruising the insides of her thighs as I held them apart, despite her efforts to tighten them around my head while I licked at her soft, wet center. With my hands thusly occupied, I would have nothing but my mouth and tongue to probe her innermost secrets, my nose nuzzling her hard little bud, pulling back to watch it bloom and turn a deep, dark pink, displaying her gratitude and appreciation, until she let me use my hands where I wanted, holding her open, prying, pressing my finger, my fingers deeper, harder into her as she began to shake... I stopped palming my cock with a fierce snarl when some motherfucking ringtone dragged me out of my soon-to-be reality.

"Jacob? Hey. No, I'm just hanging out at home."

Well, I hadn't planned on that. She couldn't be too affronted with the death, or murder, as it were, of total strangers, but the present tone of her voice told me she might be angered over this one. I considered, momentarily, that my love wouldn't be enraptured by my choice, or my lack of remorse, but she would eventually understand that, like everything I did, his death would serve its purpose.


	7. Chapter 7

**Usual disclaimer applies. I don't own Twilight, but that's okay, because I really do adore a dark Edward anyway.**

**I'd like to thank my beta Dellaterra and my pre-reader Truceover. I keep hoping one day they will send me back an email saying "This is so perfect, I have no comments." Truceover assures me that will never happen though. Oh well.**

**For all my readers and anyone who has continued to stick with my story, thank you. I know it's taking forever between updates, but I'm trying. In the meantime, if you like my writing, you can see my attempt to do the complete opposite and destroy the english language while on Twitter my_e_addiction.**

**The song I've used for this chapter is "My Curse" by The Afghan Whigs. You really have to hear it to feel it.**

**Xo,**

**E's**

* * *

I followed them for several weeks. I trusted my love, but the dog's thoughts were that of, well, a dog. He wouldn't have surprised me if he attempted to smell Isabella and mount her from behind in public. She was perfect as ever and remained untainted despite this _Jacob's_ pathetic attempts to flirt with her.

I had decided to let him live a little longer since he clearly was no threat to me. I was unsure of how my love would handle him, but since I rarely left her, I knew I could stop anything too forward. Jacob was Isabella's only friend—ever—and I hated to take everything away from her. She could enjoy this small piece of normalcy before I made my move. I would wait though. I had already waited nearly eighteen years. She already had my heart; soon enough, I would have hers as well. I was simply undecided as to whether or not it would remain caged under her lovely breasts.

As time passed, I could no longer resist her pull. The distance between us had been too great for too long. I knew her every move, heard her every breath. The filthy little pup worked to get closer to her in all ways possible. As much as I despised his involvement, I wanted my girl to be happy, and she enjoyed having someone to talk to, although he didn't have much of anything to say. The sounds that disgorged from his lips were not worthy to vibrate into the soft ellipse of her ear.

I wandered through her room after they had been in there one rainy afternoon. My restraint was as thin and delicate as an insect's wings and the boy continued to test my patience. Being in her room was the last straw. She didn't know enough to stop him when he suggested they do homework up there. He hadn't tried anything– he would be dead if he had— but he had certainly considered it. He had fantasized about it and now he was able to picture exactly where he wanted to kiss her, touch her, penetrate her.

_You hurt me baby. I flinch so when you do. _

_Your kisses scourge me. Hyssop in your perfume._

I fingered a red blouse left carelessly on her chair. Her smell was so powerful in this small space. I had missed it so—the intoxication of it made me close my eyes and drop to my knees in supplication. It was overwhelming and delicious. I remained on my stone knees and held the fabric to my nose, inhaling deeply. The growl reverberated through my chest as I picked up on his stench hovering over her possessions.

I could have let it go this time, but the closer I got to her bed, the stronger her essence became. Here on her bed, she had allowed her body to respond to him. I knew his fantasies were just that, but this betrayal from her was beyond what I would allow.

_Oh I do not fear you. _

_And slave I only use_

_As a word to describe the special way I feel, for you_

I ripped the thick purple covers from her bed, then the sheets. Even her mattress reeked of him, and her body's duplicity. I didn't care what they had or had not done. I could not allow her to think this was acceptable. After I had shredded the linen, I moved on to the pillows and mattress. By the time I was finished, there were little downy feathers floating about like a wintry storm. The chaos I created in her room represented the swirling anger and confusion in my head and in my dead heart. I just couldn't understand how she could do this to me. After all these years of waiting for her, she meets some boy who shows her a spark of kindness and she's ready to spread her legs for him? It made no sense.

I was sick of playing these games with her. I had to make her understand what I had put myself through to be with her. Running my hands through my slick hair, I looked about her room. I hated that she made me lose all control like this. Now look what I've become. Well, fuck it. The dog could help her pick up this mess. After all, they were the cause of it.

_All ugly thoughts are gone_

_I'm sure we'll all be friends_

I waited for her outside the school. She took her usual route and I stayed hidden. I didn't need to read her thoughts to know that she was visibly shaken. She constantly looked around and checked over her shoulder often. She unlocked the door of her truck and pumped the clutch to make the engine turn over. A few gnawed-through wires had done the trick though. Her father wasn't a stupid man and after the _episode _in her room, he wouldn't easily overlook cut wires or a missing spark plug.

She cursed softly under her breath and tried the key again. The lot was nearly empty as she looked around for help, or for a culprit. I watched as she dropped her chin to her chest in defeat. She got out and slammed the heavy door with a resounding thud. I looked up as if surprised by her presence, and set my book down on the damp, mildewed picnic table.

"Oh," she gasped softly as she realized she wasn't alone.

"Hello. Car trouble?" I struggled to keep my eagerness in check and attempted to come off as casual. My body was screaming to be closer to her, to touch her blood-warmed skin, but my brain was hazed in a wispy fog. Even at this distance, her powers calmed my mind and helped to quiet the world.

"Um, yes?" She seemed uneasy with my random appearance and I'd be damned if I scared my wounded little bird away now that she had spoken to me. "You don't go to school here," she stated bluntly.

"Ah, no. But after hours it's quiet here at the school and I like the peace." I held my book up for her to see.

"Charles Dickens?" She looked at me incredulously. "You're reading that?"

"Yes?" Now it was my turn to be confused.

"It's just that I haven't met a whole lot of boys who are into the classics." With her hands on her hips, she went from defiant and bold to embarrassed and self-conscious. "Not that I know a _whole lot_ of boys."

"I'm not your average _man_ I suppose." I would separate myself from those _children_ she had been exposed to previously.

_I'll try to break your back_

_You'll try to make amends_

"Hmm," she mused. "I should go call my dad." She nodded back toward the school.

"You don't have a cell phone? I doubt anyone will be in there now." I pointed toward the staff lot that was now empty. Quite a school—three-thirty hit and everyone cleared out. Whatever happened to dedication? Of course, I didn't mind. This had been my plan all along.

"Oh, uh, it was recently, um, damaged." My love began rocking on her toes, a sure sign of her nerves.

"I'm sorry. You're welcome to use mine." I held it out to her.

"I guess that would be okay."

She reached for the phone without getting too close to me. Apparently she did have some sense of self-preservation after all. I willed her closer. I was desperate to touch her, for her to touch me. I just wanted a small connection—to feel human again for just a moment. It had been so very long since I first discovered her. I had shut myself off from all feeling. I was too proud and too stupid to admit that I needed someone. Being around the rest of the Cullens had made me will my heart into submission.

I had attempted to do the same around Isabella, but it was of no use. If she wouldn't have me, it would end me. As the seconds ticked by, I knew our first meeting was nearly over. She was telling her father that it would be alright, that it was only a short walk home. I couldn't have picked a better day. I looked up to see the grey sky with ominous weather blowing in our direction. The clouds were pregnant with rain, and common sense would tell Isabella that a walk would be dangerous and simply stupid.

"Thank you," my pretty angel breathed out. She was staring up at the sky, squinting at the distance.

"Did I hear correctly? You have to walk home?"

Baby steps for my nervous kitten.

"Yeah. My father is working, but it's fine. So thanks again for letting me use your phone. Um…maybe I'll see you around."

The moment was slipping away and panic bubbled up in my chest. I suppressed the fear of her walking away from me and stood up quickly.

"It looks like it will rain any moment. I can give you a ride somewhere…if you'd like." I nodded in the direction of my car.

"Oh, no thanks. It's not far."

She hitched her bag over her shoulder and turned to leave me.

"Are you sure? I don't mind at all."

She attempted to smile but something about it looked wrong. It wasn't the same one I had seen her give the boy.

"Thanks again," she called over her shoulder. She gave me a slight wave and picked up speed.

_And there's blood on my teeth  
When I bite my tongue to speak  
_

There was nothing left to say for now. I wanted to tear her throat out before she could speak so callously to me again. But I maintained my composure and decided that she would be allowed another chance to make the right decision.

_Zip me down, kiss me there  
I can smile now, you won't find out_

_Ever_


	8. Chapter 8

I'd like to thank the 6 of you who are still reading. That's a high estimate, but I know I can count on 3 of you to read this chapter (my hardcore twitter loves TheCherryRed, ChloeCougar, and LovelyBrutal). Thank you as well to my beta Dellaterra and my prereader TruceOver (who is waiting in line for the Twilight Panel at ComicCon as I type- Sooooooo Jealous!) Without them, my writing for this story wouldn't be half of what it is.

I had to delete my other** twitter** account, so please find and follow me there **Saphire_burst**.

I don't own Twilight or the characters, but a final thank you to SM for the inspiration.

* * *

I waited until she was out of sight before I got in my car. It would start raining soon enough and she would be more inclined to accept my offer then. I followed slowly and waited for my moment. There was only one other car on the road in this desolate little town, but I didn't want anyone to see me in case she didn't acquiesce to my show of chivalry so easily. I wasn't sure how much longer I could maintain this composure.

I spotted her walking along the side of the road. She was kicking her shoes in the dirt, slowly making her way home to safety, despite my warnings of the threatening weather. She was so naive, so trusting. It's something I loved about her though. Most girls at this age were foolish, but she was simply trusting unaware. Despite her upbringing, she had still learned to trust others, to bond in some form. It wasn't overt, but she still didn't see the worst in people. It was as if she gave everyone a chance until they proved her wrong. Except, apparently, for me.

I had opened up to her since her birth. I had loved her before she took her first breath. My devotion, my attempt to change my very self, meant so little to her that she had declined my offer for a ride as if I were trying to solicit sex from her in front of the school! My head was spinning. Every fiber of my body stood on edge, waiting to pounce on my prey walking slowly ahead. I had to be subtle. She was an intelligent girl, and if I wasn't careful, she might get nervous. As it was, my Isabella seemed to be apprehensive around me—so very unlike her demeanor around the wolf in sheep's clothing.

It would just be a coincidence that I was heading in the same direction as she was. After all, it's not like there are many roads in this godforsaken place. I would just be headed toward the diner, or gas station, or whatever people did here. The car in front of me began to tap the brakes as several fat drops of rain hit my windshield. It's just fucking rain! In this part of the country one would think a driver would be used to it.

The skies hadn't quite opened up but I could smell the heaviness in the air; it would be a matter of seconds before the downpour hit her. The brake lights were still on ahead of me, and now the car was pulling over. How did I miss this? I had seen this car sitting outside of my love's house. It was motherfucking Jacob Black trying to be her goddamned knight in shining armor! My muscles tightened and my jaw clenched almost painfully as I watched the passenger door open from the inside. The explosion of air from the bolt of lightning that cracked just 100 yards away was barely enough to cover the roar that exploded from my chest while I watched in horror. The downpour that followed was as sudden as the aching realization that my love wasn't against taking a ride—she was against me! She hopped into _HIS_ car without hesitation! She threw her bag in the back and leaned over to kiss _HIM_ on the cheek! Despite the thousandth of a second it took for the lightning to hit the ground and return to the sky, I saw it all in slow motion—_HE_ leaned over to open the door from inside the dry warmth of the car to open the door; _SHE_ leaned down, then in; _HE_ stayed close to _HER_; _SHE_ leaned to kiss _HIM_! I didn't have to be a haruspex to know what he must be thinking. His body was vibrating with excitement and his mind was rejoicing with the prospect of sex.

The only thing—and I mean the _ONLY_ thing—keeping me from ramming into the back end of his piece-of-shit car was the thought that I wanted to be the one to physically end his life. She would have no alternative. She would need me then. I wanted this to be slower, perfect for her, but she was pushing me. I was ready. I had been for nearly eighteen years. It was she who wasn't.

I took an unnecessary breath and released my near-crushing grip on the steering wheel. I had to pull back. I refused to let this insignificant pup ruin everything I had worked so hard for. Eighteen years. In my lifetime it was really a blip on the screen, but since it had to do with my Isabella, it meant everything. It might as well have been an entire lifetime. It was the only part of my existence that mattered. I had spent an eternity in purgatory, and being near her, inhaling the air she breathed, was the closest I could get to heaven.

The more I considered it, the more I was tempted to snap something. I flexed my fingers, and tightened and released the fists I had made. My desperation to follow the rusting deathtrap to her house was overpowered eventually by common sense, and perhaps the sick desire to be able to continue watching her without it affecting her behavior. I had to pull down another street before the two became suspicious, although I doubt a boy of his menial sagacity would be so observant. He'd be gone shortly and I could see her once again.

I waited for his car to pull away. I might not always be a gentleman, but the bastard didn't even get out the car to walk her to the door in this downpour. This was perhaps to my advantage, as the pelting water forced her to rush into the house. Her haste made her careless enough to leave her door unlocked. I could come in no matter what, but this was practically an invitation. The warmth from the house and the heat from her body reacted to the droplets on her skin like a steam room with her delicious scent filling the space. I followed her wet footprints like a trail of breadcrumbs. She had deposited her wet items in the laundry room and I could only imagine her shivering wet body upstairs. I remained silent as I stalked my pretty girl to her bedroom. I wasn't quite ready to alert her to my presence. I loved watching her when she was unaware. She dropped her self-conscious mask and I reveled in her authenticity. I loathed it as well though, wondering why she hadn't been like that with me. I knew I would have to impress on her how important she was to me, and I to her. I would simply have to insinuate myself a little more deeply into her life.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

A/N- Did you see the BD trailer yet? Yeah, picture Angryward when reading this whole story. So hot.

I would like to thank my wonderful beta Dellatera, who puts up with my ridiculous and totally random usage of comas (I truly have no rhyme or reason) and my pre reader TruceOver who makes me realize that what made sense in my own head is clearly a fuck show of words on paper.

And to my darling sapphire peacock, you know who you are. I adore you and you inspire everything I do. I love you.

E's

* * *

She felt safe in her bedroom and didn't dress immediately, but her living arrangements had made her more cautious. The pre-twilight hour was the only reason she hadn't shut it tightly, knowing her father wouldn't be home for several hours. My beautiful little vixen moved about her room with a lightness I hadn't observed before. Isabella was always fairly quiet-her footsteps ghosting over the floor-but this was different: Her lightness was internal.

I stood in the small hallway determined to consume her every sense. I had been in her home before-I watched her sleep throughout the years-but everything about this moment was different. Off. I couldn't quite place the discord though, being so overwhelmed with her. I adored her filling my body with her scents and sounds and mostly, her beautiful gift of silence. I felt my blood pump through my veins and my lungs expand with air. Being around her, filled by her, I was human again. My muscles flexed with anticipation at her proximity. Everything felt so very nearly perfect and yet something was plaguing me. My body was vibrating—working faster, understanding more—while my brain struggled to catch up. It came slowly, as if pieces of a puzzle were being filled in automatically and the whole picture became clear. I wasn't reacting to her; it was her reaction to _him _that was driving me wild_. _ She was dancing around her room, her scent was heady and thick. It was excitement, arousal.

I had to get out of there. The space was so confined and my control was slipping faster than I could regain my foothold. She would die tonight. Now. Someone would. There would be a blood payment for my hurt, my anguish. _Him_, I could understand. His need, desire, it was uncontrollable around her. I had endured this often over the years. It was part of loving her and I had become accustomed to it, would become accustomed to it. This was the first person _she_ had reacted to. He would have to go. Tonight.

But I couldn't leave her just yet. It was too delicious being this close to her with her excitement in the air. I chose to ignore the fact that it was for another. My pretty petal moved around her room, finally settling on her bed. I could hear the dried tea-colored pages turning slowly as she moved through another book. I hadn't heard the rustle of clothing and pictured her sitting nude, reading. Charlie must be working late this evening or she would never have been so bold. I considered staying longer to indulge in her innocent loveliness, but I had another engagement this evening. I crept silently down the stairs and was careful to lock the door after myself. Her father wouldn't be happy to know she lounged about with no clothing on _and_ left doors open to strangers.

It was easy to find out where Jacob lived. This town was small enough that I had been able to cover every corner within a half an hour when I had first arived. I didn't need to this time though. There was a reservation by First Beach and unless the boy lived on his own, I was sure he would be there. I decided I would leave my love for a short time while I massacred our little interloper. He would be removed quickly, although I hadn't decided as to whether or not it would be painless. Truthfully, I was tiring of him and the time I had wasted on dealing with him already. I just wanted him out of Isabella's thoughts and life. Permanently.

As I made my way down the only road leading toward the reservation, I felt a sense of déjà vu. Something about the air here was making the back of my throat tickle and it became hard to swallow. If I were human, I would think I was having an allergic reaction. The closer I got to the land, the louder the voices got. These voices were confusing though. I began shaking my head as if to clear it. Something was wrong. These voices weren't human, or at least, they weren't alive.

The buzzing static continued to rush past my ears, making me jerk my head back and forth as I attempted to make sense of the jarring noise. The sound was physical, hitting me, hurting me, screams, pleas, in languages I couldn't understand, but something about the sound told me that whatever the fuck this was, it was violent and brutal. I pushed on ignoring the distressing and increasingly oppressive thoughts that filled my brain. I had no room left to think. I could only feel the pull of their words, their stories, their lives.

With the border two feet away, I could not continue. I fought, wanting my body to obey, but in truth my mind was too paralyzed, too overwrought with desperation and death to form a command. The ancient tribe took up residence in my skull and poured forth every thought and image of a destroyed people, hollow, breathless, cold. _A gleam, a sparkle, a final thought of death, and prayers for those still remaining. Blood, a trickle, a drop…there should be so much more blood, but it was gone. Teeth, razor sharp, fangs. Large, too large for a human. Too large for a vampire. _

I shook my head and pressed the heels of my hands to my temples, determined to compress and expel the intrusive thoughts. If I could breathe I would be gasping. I was disoriented and weak—a very dangerous predicament for a hunter to be in. I stumbled back to my vehicle and fumbled for the handle. I had to get out of this place. Clearly Jacob was on protected land and no harm would come to him here. I would have to plan better. As I drove back toward my sinfully sweet little girl, the fog lifted from my dulled mind and I began trembling. What had I almost done? My precious feather peacock, my sunlight hidden behind my stony, gray love, how could I hurt her so? She only wanted a friend. I could be that. I could do that for her. She would just have to see how much I loved her and that I would do anything for her. I would regain my control and fix this.


	10. Chapter 10

**Ok, the emo was pretty hardcore when I published this initially. I'm seriously hoping it's gone. I miss being myself. Anyway... I'm not leaving my stories, we'll get there. Promise. As always, updates will be sporadic.**

**For this quick update though, you can thank LovelyBrutal. It's her birthday present. It's all she asked for, and it's the least I can do. Her writing is tragically beautiful. Go. Read. Leave your appreciation. Ily Imy peacock.**

**Love to you all. Thanks for sticking with me.**

**E's**

**P.S. This is not beta'd. Please don't blame Dellaterra or TruceOver for my terrible mistakes. This was done with lots of wine.**

* * *

When she arrived at the coffee shop before school, I was already waiting. I sat in a booth with shiny red vinyl pretending to read a newspaper. It nearly killed me waiting for her. I stood outside, behind the tacky little place, biding my time. I knew she wouldn't arrive until at least 6:53 and yet I had stood there since 3:12. I had already been to her home and waited in her room. I had hardly grown tired of her, but I had tested my resolve enough for one night.

I could do this.

I would do this.

I had no choice but to endure.

She slept on her side, with her torso twisted and her arms tucked oddly beneath her. I fought for minutes or hours maybe, with myself. If I touched her, would my skin catch fire? Would it burn and shiver, craving more, only to blister and peel when the ice of my body caught up with it? Would the need to touch her again consume me as a fire through subfused tinder? Or would the intensity of the unknown longing be unbearable to my stilled heart. I hadn't been able to decide what torture would be worse when I found myself standing over her with fingertips poised at her should blades. I lingered over her form. I could have easily supplanted her position in seconds, but to run my fingers along the edges of her body was divine. I tried to resist. I told myself that I had tried to resist. I ran my nose along the line of her neck and indulged in the fragrance lingering in the downy hairs at the nape.

I swore I could stop.

I would stop.

I had no choice but to continue.

Further down I ran the tip of my nose. I closed my eyes and slowly lifted my jaw, allowing my mouth to come into contact with the clean, white canvas of her back. I was repulsed and aroused at the thoughts that clung to the edges of my mind. They were stronger than her power, but only barely. I forced myself to stop at her sensitive little iliac crest on the left—though I was desperate to go further beneath the thick blanket.

The feeling was exquisite. I hadn't known the power of her touch in years. I was overcome with the pressing weight of grief in my chest at the thought of the time I had lost without her body pressed against mine. Her self-conscious demeanor was gone in her sleep. She was pure loveliness and sex. She sighed as I touched her. The sound wasn't enough to drag me from my drug-like haze, but it was enough to remind me that I wasn't focused on my clandestine mission and the importance of my stealth.

I stood in the parking lot waiting for the sunrise while thoughts of Isabella swirled through my brain. I hadn't been gentle enough with her. She was a timid bird with enough sense to run in the opposite direction. I had to slowly implement myself to into her life. At 5 o'clock a tiny, nondescript brunette came with keys in hand to unlock the grimy glass door. I pulled the frosty air into my useless lungs, forcing myself to calm down and gain control. Spending several hours in a booth would surely call attention to me since the black liquid would sit practically untouched for the duration of my stay.

I managed to stay under the waitress' radar by hiding behind the inky paper. I smelled her before I saw her. I had to force my eyes down and let her walk in unfettered by my presence. Instinctually, though, she knew. I felt her gaze gravitate immediately toward my direction. At that moment I shifted my hands, closing the paper in a phony preparation to turn the page. I allowed myself to look up and assumed a nonchalant gaze. I didn't want her to think that I remembered her. My timid bird with her gorgeous coloring was skittish enough. I sensed her staring at me. I waited. She tensed.

I glanced up with my most seductive look that I had perfected over the years. It worked with men and women. She couldn't be that different from the rest. Her teeth caught her fleshy lip as her cheeks flushed with a soft glow. She smiled at me, but as before, it was wrong. This was the smile she used only with me. It was sad and nervous. She gave a slight wave to acknowledge me, but I needed more. I tried to remember that she needed to be in control of this dance, but I was a gentleman, and I had been raised to lead. I raised my hand to mimic her wave and found myself turning my hand over, palm facing up, and curling my fingers.

She froze—my little doe in headlights. She glanced to the counter where I knew she was expecting to just get her usual cup of orange pekoe tea that they stocked just for her. She looked to the parking lot quickly and back to me. Her throat moved as her muscles contracted with apprehension. I became hard thinking of sinking my teeth into those muscles. I wanted to avoid the artery to make it last as long as possible. I tried to make myself stop thinking of her velvety insides but I could do nothing to make myself stop picturing her wide open cunt with my four curled fingers that had just called her over deep inside her, making her cry out. She wouldn't know if she wanted me to continue, but she wouldn't stop me. I would push harder, my hand working its way into her body, the sucking sound pulling me further, deeper into her. She would scream that I was breaking her as she rode my fist and begged me to bite her, to suck her hard. I couldn't stop picturing her thighs aching from the position, her hands on my forearm, driving me, faster. She had control of me. She had always had the control. I held no power. Not over her, not even over myself. She had to decide for herself.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N- Thank you to Chloe Cougar who has used her loveliness and brains to make this chapter more readable and less a tribute to the death of commas. I also appreciate the help of Truceover who makes me think about what I should write versus the garbled mess that I often do write. Finally, thank you to everyone who continues to read this and waits for my updates though they are few and very far between.**

**The lyrics are from Possum Kingdom by The Toadies.**

**All the usual disclaimers apply- I am not SM and these characters are not mine. I would just like to think that this is how Edward might be if he gave in to his dark side, even a little.**

* * *

She hesitated for a moment too long. I had already begun to plot my next steps if she walked away now. Would I have to start over again? A new day. I could try to wait until she was ready—more comfortable around me. I feared that time would never come. I had to trust that she knew we were to be together some day. That she was made just for me. My mouth, my body, my desires. Make no mistake, she would be fulfilled. My soft petal, apricot: smooth and ripe. She was a Carolina rose pushing up through rough, dry soil. She was delicate see-through white and sanguine rose hips. Bursting with a captivating fragrance that even the larder served here could not drown out. Every bit of her called to me and I was despondent, yet raging with desperation to know why her heart, mind, and body weren't screaming at her to feel the same.

_**Make up your mind**_

_**Decide to walk with me**_

But those feelings are painful and needy and I inflicted it, I did not suffer it. Anger became my release. Today, however, she would keep the monster at bay with the subtle upturn of her lips, the slight shift in her balance from one foot to the other. She was coming to see me. Maybe no one would die today.

"Hi." She was so unaware of her own seductive beauty; she stumbled over meaningless phrases in my presence.

"So, you live here now?" Embarrassed by her own forwardness, she lifted her fingertips to her lips in an attempt to hide a growing smile.

I folded the paper smoothly and set it down, gesturing to the vacant seat across from me. "I do. Well, close enough. This, however, is the closest thing to a town, so it looks as though I'll be in the area."

_**Around the lake tonight**_

_**By my side**_

She lifted her left hand and pulled the sleeve of her coat back to reveal her delicate china-doll wrist. She checked the time piece and visibly debated with herself.

"I don't want to be late."

"Of course not, I wouldn't want to keep you. It was just so nice to see a face I recognized. I've moved so much, recognition seems to be an oddity."

"Bella, honey!" The nondescript waitress I had seen opening the diner held out a paper cup with a lid on it. "Your tea is ready." She stood waiting expectantly for Bella to leave me.

"Oh, um, that's for me. I have to go anyway. Welcome to Forks, and I'm sure you'll begin to recognize just about everyone soon enough."

Her smile faltered and she hiked her bag higher on her shoulder. It was too heavy for her frame. It was throwing off her balance and her hips were becoming displaced. Even under her bulky jacket I could see her perfect gait had been changed permanently. I quickly stood, not wanting to waste the opportunity I had so often pissed away. I threw a twenty dollar bill on the table and met her in two strides.

"This looks heavy," I told her as I lifted her bag from her back. She looked surprised and somewhat displeased. Wasn't I being a gentleman? I only wanted her to notice me, know that I was here for her. I wanted to take care of her in every way possible. Alas, I had been around humans long enough to read her haughty expression. I relinquished her bag and stepped back.

_**I'm not gonna lie**_

_**I won't be a gentleman**_

"My apologies. I just wanted to help." I held my hands up in surrender. She was not weak—this I knew.

I watched her grab her tea and thank the waitress with a genuine smile. The luminescent look reserved for all others but me.

I felt compelled to leave with her, so I silently held the door and waited for her to pass. I gave an involuntary sad smile and waved as I walked away. This attempt had failed. She was not the forward type. I would have to step back a bit and give her some space. I would need to give her reminders of myself without getting in her way.

I walked slowly, reveling in my impetuous inadequacies. A new tactic, a new way. I considered contacting the coven for suggestions on wooing my pusillanimous little doe out of the woods and into the line of my sight. Although polyamorous, they were mated to only one and had cumulatively been so for several hundred years. They held far more experience than I, and it would give me a good opportunity to bring up the event that had taken place on the Quileute's land. They would be my best resource should I have the need to return to the sacred land.

The pup had been merely a thorn in my side but continued on that path alone. Despite his attempts at closeness with my silk petal, she did not avail her soft, pink pistil to him. He remained frustrated and she remained pure of body and mind, unaware that he was anything more than her dear friend. I was less concerned of ridding our budding relationship of him and needed to focus on garnering her favorable attention in less conventional ways.

_**Behind the boathouse**_

_**I'll show you my dark secret**_

_My precious jewel;__ m__y brilliant peacock feather sparkling against a pale and perfect backdrop; I follow your lush scent on a hidden breeze in the midnight air. Tender is your pulsing heart, calling my name with each beat. I can hear it now. When will you? How will I open your senses to me? My heart has been stilled for so long but finding you brought it to life. Let me in…_

I stole into her room while she was at school. The paltry lock on the door did nothing to secure the home. I crept to her bedroom, inhaling her essence in every corner of the house as I went. Her bed was unmade, and clearly she had been the only one in here in quite some time. Although I knew she had been spending her time with the dog on his land, at least he had not been here. I lay down on her bed and rubbed my face against her pillow. The covers were still drawn back and the sheets were pushed down in a tangle at the end of the bed. I removed my clothes and reveled in the warm imprint she had left behind. I pulled the covers up to my face and inhaled deeply, cursing the burn and welcoming it at the same time. I rolled around hoping to collect her scent on my body, or leave some of mine behind. Her subconscious mind would hopefully pick it up and carry thoughts of me into her dreams. After several hours of contemplating how best to convince Isabella of our destiny, I gathered my clothing and left my love letter on her pillow.

_**I'm not gonna lie**_

_**I want you for mine**_

_**My blushing bride**_

_**My lover, be my lover**_


End file.
